


A Fanciful Affair

by ditzymax



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fingering, Graphic Sexual Content, Originally Posted on Tumblr, POV Second Person, Public Sex, Reader-Insert, light foot play, mentions of drunken sex, mentions of societal/parental pressures, pessimistic views towards marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 11:58:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13903557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ditzymax/pseuds/ditzymax
Summary: Your sister is getting married, so naturally you are the Maid of Honor in the wedding party. To your surprise, your opposite equal - the groom’s Best Man - is a previous fling whom you would have rather never encountered again, so it must be the “love in the air” that makes you agree to round two.





	A Fanciful Affair

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings & Features: profanity; mentions of sibling favoritism; mentions of societal/parental pressures; pessimistic views towards marriage; graphic sexual content (mentions of drunken sex, tiniest mention of a beastiality-like situation (like probably not even worth bringing up in my warnings, but just in case), light foot play, fingering, cunnilingus, public sex)

“I’m on my way right now.”

That part is essentially true.

“Yeah, l’m in the car.”

That part is a downright lie.

“ _Yes!_  Stop  _worrying_  so much. I mean, it’s just the rehearsal, isn’t it?”

It takes two heartbeats for you to realize your mistake, at which point your heart stops and you halt all movement. You close your eyes and silently curse your loose lips. You hadn’t meant to say that last part out loud - it just slipped.

Detonation imminent in

3…

2…

1…

“ _Just_  the rehearsal?!” Jihye screeches into the phone predictably. “Are you  _kidding_  me right now? I mean, yeah, I  _guess_  it’s just the rehearsal. My fucking  _wedding_  rehearsal! It’s only the practice for the most important event of my  _life._  It needs to be  _perfect_ , and my Maid of Honor is at home telling me it’s _just_ the rehearsal. So typical of you. Oh, and for the record, Mom and Dad aren’t happy about you not being here yet, either.”

You reopen your eyes just to roll them, then return to fishing your car keys out of your bag.

They may not be happy, but it’s not like your parents can be  _surprised_  by your tardiness. It’s their younger daughter - the perfect student, the perfect athlete, the perfect musician - who is the stable, reliable one.

And sure, you know for a fact that your mother and father love you with all their hearts. But you’re also well aware that Jihye’s compliant, placating nature takes a lot less of a toll on them. Your parents have to be beyond grateful for her. Their nerves are frayed and frazzled from suffering through your rambunctious “phase” that still hasn’t passed.

Your teenaged years can be summed up in a series of jaundiced words, whiny protests, and indignant groans from your side of the ring, and stern lectures tapering off to exhausted sighs from your parents’ end. Whenever your attitude became too much, your mother and father would turn their attention to Jihye. She would present them with yet another trophy or academic achievement to soothe their souls and assure them that they were not complete failures as parents since they were raising  _one_  child properly.

These days, you are keeping your trend alive and well by refusing to conform to your parents’ expectations of settling down in a monogamous heterosexual relationship for the purpose of “stability” and producing children. And, just like always, your parents have turned to Jihye for comfort. They are spending a fortune on your baby sister’s wedding to show they clearly favor the direction  _her_  life is going.

But Jihye - like everyone else in the world - deserves happiness, of course, so why not try to make this special day as perfect as possible for her? You have nothing against her. If she wants to get married, she is certainly entitled to her dream wedding.

Just shy of four months ago, in a show of sibling camaraderie and familial commitment that you knew would please your parents, you had promised to be nothing but supportive of all of your sister’s wedding plans from the humblest of requests to the most exorbitant demands. Your stamina had kept up fairly well, but you are gradually losing steam as the end draws nearer.

 _Only a little over twenty-four more hours to go_ , you remind yourself with dull cheer.

If you’re being completely honest, you aren’t even sure that Jihye getting married is such a good idea. At least not so soon, anyway.

She and her boyfriend (well,  _fiancé_  now, of course) had only been dating for eight months when he proposed. Surely that was not a long enough period of time to truly get to know another person, and you blatantly told her as much. But Jihye was over the moon and couldn’t -  _wouldn’t_  - hear of it. She swore up and down she knew in her bones that Minho is  _definitely the one_ , which took you aback.

Your sister was never one to be overly romantic. Jihye always,  _always_  keeps a calm, disciplined, pragmatic head on her shoulders. So even while you are quite skeptical of her declaration of having found her so-called  _soulmate_ , you also trust her judgement. She is the smartest person you know, after all.

Besides, you can’t deny that by the standards of society that your family holds in such high esteem, Minho is everything a husband “should” be. He is wonderfully charming, fantastically handsome, cleverly funny, financially stable, and the epitome of etiquette. And, above all, he seems to make Jihye genuinely happy. He transforms your uptight, austere little sister into a giggling, carefree mess. You have to admit that you’d be hard-pressed to find a better companion for her to spend the rest of her life with.

But do they have to be so  _hasty_  about it? And do they have to get married on their  _one-year-anniversary_? It makes you want to stick your finger in your open mouth and gag.

Despite your disagreements, you still love Jihye dearly, so you mentally collect yourself and kindly say, “I know, sweetie. I’m sorry. Maybe one day I’ll get my shit together and pretend like I’m actually the older sister here.”

Jihye sighs on the other end of the line. When she speaks again, her voice is much quieter.

“You know I didn’t mean it like-”

“Yeah, I know,” you interrupt. Then, to appease her: “Hey, I’ll be there in ten minutes, okay?”

“Okay. Drive safely, sissy,” she implores sweetly, and you know you are on your way to being forgiven. “See you soon.”

 

* * *

 

Everyone who arrived at the chapel on time gives you peculiar looks when you join them inside fourteen minutes later.

It takes a moment for you to realize it is because  _they_  all dressed up for the rehearsal while  _you_  are still clad in a pair of ripped, black denim shorts and a white tank top with the name of your favorite band advertised across your chest. Evidently the universe decided you just needed something  _else_  to mentally kick yourself over today. You only hope that your sister and your parents will be too absorbed in other, more crucial details to waste energy scolding you about your lacking attire.

But you have no such luck.

In a flash, your mother is on you like a vulture to carrion.

“Yah! I thought we  _told_  you this would be semi-formal!” she whines while simultaneously embracing you tightly.

“Hi Mom,” you say with an unapologetic smirk. Then you look up and add, “Hi Dad.”

“Hi pumpkin,” says your father. He leans down and pecks your temple. “Glad you could make it,” he adds in a teasing manner.

“Oh, hon, look!” your mother exclaims to your father. Something behind you has caught her attention. “That must be Minho’s sister and her two kids. When did they get here? Let’s go say hello…”

As quickly as that, and without another word to you - endearing, scolding, teasing, or otherwise - your mother ushers your father away to leave you standing alone. But only for a second.

“ _There_  you are!” calls a voice you would know anywhere.

 _Oh no, it’s the Bridezilla!_  you panic playfully while turning towards the sound.

Jihye waves excitedly and hurries towards you with quick and dainty stiletto’d steps. Her fiancé follows her at a much more leisurely pace.

Minho catches your gaze and smiles. Then he glances at the back of Jihye’s head, gives a slight shrug of his shoulders, and looks to you again with raised eyebrows as if to fondly say,  _“Yeah, she’s a little much sometimes, but we love her.”_

You grin back at him from over your sister’s shoulder as she slams her frame into yours and wraps her arms around your neck affectionately. The scent of her signature shampoo surrounds you and makes you think of home.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” you apologize while returning the hug. “I’m the worst.”

“No you’re not, sissy. Don’t say that. It’s fine.” She might be reassuring herself more than you.

She pulls back and glides her hands to squeeze your bare biceps. Her eyes sweep over your outfit in the same judging manner as your mother’s did, but she manages to hold her tongue.

“I’m just glad you’re here now,” she says instead, smiling at you warmly. Then she explains, “This should all be really simple. The minister already talked me, Minho, Mom, and Dad through most of it. We just need to ‘act it out.’ If we can just find your partner now, we’ll be ready to get started…”

By “partner” you know she means Minho’s elected Best Man, whom you have never met before. In fact, you’ve never met  _any_  of Minho’s friends or family. His and Jihye’s relationship has been such a whirlwind that you’ve never gotten the chance.

It will just be you and the Best Man in the wedding party, which is one decision of Jihye’s for which you are thankful. Large wedding parties are typically too ostentatious in your opinion. Though you can’t help but wonder if there  _would_ have been more people involved if your sister had only given herself more time to plan…

Jihye peers around with scrupulous eyes. Without looking at him, she addresses her husband-to-be, “Darling, have you seen Hoseok? Where did he wander off to?”

Minho also makes a cursory inspection around the place at her indirect request.

“Hmm. Well, I don’t- Ah, here he comes now, dear,” he says with a gesture of his hand somewhere to your left and Jihye’s right. You look to where he is indicating and see a man making his way towards the three of you from between the pews.

The immediate thought that registers in your mind is that he is extremely good-looking. Deep brown hair parted a little off-center, sweetened coffee eyes, high and prominent cheekbones. The sleeves of his red button-down shirt are rolled up to his elbows, granting a nice view of his veined and sinewy forearms. His legs are long and lean in his black slacks. He walks with such easy grace and exudes confidence.

Then you realize a few more things.

(Oh  _no_ …)

You’ve seen him somewhere before.

You’ve spoken with him before.

You’ve  _slept with him before._

And he was one of the worst lays you have ever had.

About six months ago, you had gone out with a group of friends to one of the city’s hottest night clubs. It was a scene you felt like you were starting to outgrow, to be honest, but your mission success rate had always been one hundred percent, and you were in the mood to score that night.

The mission was simple: get laid.

It was always scary easy to find  _some_ one to fuck for the night. It was nothing a form-flattering dress, sexy high heels, and a boat load of confidence had ever failed to accomplish, in your experience.

It was only two shots and one cocktail into the night when you first spotted him on the dance floor.

His movements had you mesmerized from the start. It was clear he was a great dancer; far beyond amateur level, that was for sure. The hot girl he was with couldn’t hope to keep up, but you couldn’t fault her for trying, and the man didn’t seem to mind. He was smiling brightly as he twisted his legs, waved his arms, and swayed his hips to the rhythm of the loud, bass-heavy music thumping overhead. Even from a distance, you could see his bangs were damp from his exertions and the heat of the crowd. His face was dewy and glowing. He may as well have had a spotlight shining directly on him with the way your eyes were glued to him.

 _“Oh, sweet Jesus, would you look at_ him _?”_  exclaimed one of your girlfriends.

You didn’t need to follow her line of sight to know whom she was speaking about.

Instead, you dropped your eyes down to the dregs at the bottom of your glass and hummed your agreement. You would have joined in on her fawning any other night, but this time the target of your affections was there with someone else, and you had to respect that. Hell, you wanted to buy that girl a drink and have a toast to her.

 _“He’s looking over here,”_  your friend had whispered excitedly in your ear. She giggled in a tipsy manner before adding,  _“He’s looking at_ you _, honey.”_

You remember snapping your eyes up to find she was right. The man’s date had begun to grind right up against his thigh, but he had his eyes fixed directly on you. His smile had morphed into something decidedly more sultry. He must have caught you staring at him earlier, the cocky son of a bitch.

You expected him to avert his gaze after yours connected with it, but he only bit his lip suggestively and maintained the solid eye contact. It wasn’t the first time a guy eye-fucked you from across a crowded room, but it had your heart racing like never before. The instant spark between the two of you was so palpable you couldn’t believe everyone in the club hadn’t noticed.

The events between then and when you entered his apartment are a thrilling mix of drinking, laughter, and shameless flirting. Some memories have been blurred by the shots you consumed, but others you still remember very vividly. The rousing touch of his hand on the small of your back when he ushered you out the door. The heavy cloud of stale smoke in the cab ride to his place. The exact angle of the tent in his pants while taking the elevator ride to his apartment.

If only the X-rated scenes that transpired after tumbling into his bed were as worthy of such detailed remembrance.

He had been a messy kisser, but that could be chalked up to the healthy stream of alcohol muddying his veins. Unfortunately, it also translated to less-than-sub-par head. His fervent desire to go down on you had initially aroused you greatly, but you soon grew frustrated at the sloppy way his tongue lapped at your folds - never in the right spots, and never with the right consistency. It was like having a hyper dalmatian between your legs who was disobeying every one of the commands he is supposed to understand. The image made you cringe and abandon all hope of getting off in that fashion.

Instead, you opted for urging him to just fuck you already with the prayer that having him inside of you would be better. And it  _was_  better…

…until he came within five minutes of entering you, pulled out, then gave the side of your ass a few appreciative pats as though you had done him a favor for which he was mildly thankful.

Unfortunately, he was not the first man you had hooked up with to finish so quickly and leave you dissatisfied, but he  _was_  the first to flop back beside you and fall dead asleep within seconds and without another word more. He didn’t even bother to remove the soiled condom from his softening dick first. You, too, left it right where it was and fled as quickly as possible, feeling an odd sense of petty payback while thinking of the mess he would have to deal with in the morning.

On your way home, you couldn’t help but sulk about the disappointing night that you thought held so much potential. There had been  _such chemistry_  between the two of you, after all. You figured he would be a damn  _sex god_. Instead, he ended up just being some hot guy you enjoyed flirting with for a couple hours and a pitiful story you could tell your friends about later. You expected to never see or hear from him again, especially since you were not planning on reaching out to him yourself.

Yet here he is. What a small, funny world.

Except you are far from laughing.

Your heart kicks into overdrive with worry and fear at the impending awkward situation, but you do your best not to let it show on your face. In fact, you resolve not to mention your previous acquaintance with Hoseok at all. Not in front of your sister and her fiancé at their wedding rehearsal. It wouldn’t be proper.

You manage to get your heartrate down to what you estimate to be a smooth one-hundred-ten beats per minute by the time he is standing directly in front of you.

“Hi there,” he drawls. He smiles, and the gesture draws a charming dimple in his cheek. “I’m Hoseok. You must be the Maid of Honor?”

 _Oh, so he’s_ also _going to play dumb_ , you muse to yourself when he does not immediately voice his recognition of you. Judging by the gleam in his eye, he has not forgotten about that sordid night from months ago any more than you have, but you also get the impression your memories are colored differently. He doesn’t seem the least bit rattled or embarrassed.

You nod and introduce yourself (again) while giving his outstretched hand the briefest of shakes.

“Nice to meet you.” You mentally applaud yourself for the calm steadiness of your voice. “How do you know Minho?”

“Best friends from college,” is his simple answer.

“I wish you two could have met ahead of time,” Jihye chimes in apologetically. “It would have been nice if you had gotten to know each other at least a little bit before the wedding. I should have made the time for all of us to go out to lunch or something.”

“No big deal,” says Hoseok pleasantly. His smiling eyes do not leave yours. “I mean,  _we’re_  not the ones getting married.”

He has the nerve to punctuate his stupid jest with a wink in your direction. You pretend to be flustered by forcing out a giggle in tandem with Jihye’s.

Your sister glances back and forth between you and Hoseok for a moment, and you can practically see the cogs whirring in her head. It wouldn’t be a surprise if she took a stab at playing matchmaker at some point today to hook the two of you up.

 _Already beat you to it, baby sister,_  you brood silently.

“Shall we get this show on the road, then?” comes Minho’s voice to draw you out of your thoughts.

“Please,” agrees Jihye. She waves to the minister to signal she is ready, and he nods.

The minister takes his place near the alter and requests that everyone else congregate at the other end of the chapel. Hoseok sidles up next to you at a proximity that is a bit too close to just be friendly, but you refuse to acknowledge him by even moving away.

It’s funny how senses work. A whiff of his cologne takes you right back to a vision of leaning against his arm on wobbly legs, the feel of his big, warm hands cupping your elbows to steady you, the sound of his amused laughter at your inelegant state, and the taste of his beer breath in the air.

You force yourself out of your reverie before you become lost in it.

“It’ll be very simple, everyone,” assures the minister, echoing Jihye’s earlier words. “I think everyone has already been made aware of the seating arrangements, so let’s just get straight into the processional order, and then do a rundown of what the ceremony itself will entail…”

As more instructions are given, Hoseok leans into you and murmurs under his breath, “You look nice today.”

A laugh almost escapes you at his unexpected comment. He utters it with the perfect ratio of humor and sincerity.

You manage to play off the mirthful smile on your lips by flashing it towards the woman your mother said to be Minho’s sister - who must be here because her son and daughter are the ring bearer and flower girl - in a friendly manner when you catch her eye.

“Uh, thanks,” you reply to Hoseok in an equally hushed tone.

“I mean it,” he insists. “You look every bit as pretty as when I saw you in the club.”

You ignore his compliment and try to move your pursed lips as little as possible as you grunt, “Can we please not talk about that here?”

Hoseok lets out a soft snort of laughter. “Fine.”

He departs from you shortly when his turn comes to practice standing behind Minho near the alter, and you follow immediately after to take your place on the opposite side, all too aware of his eyes on you for the remainder of the rehearsal.

 

* * *

 

His eyes are still on you when you take a seat directly across from him at the dinner table.

Jihye, in her mildly  _Bridezilla-esque_  way, opted to forgo the big, customary rehearsal dinner with the families in favor of a more intimate meal with just her fiancé, her fiancé’s Best Man, and her Maid of Honor. Your parents were a little offended about not being included, and perhaps Minho’s were too, but who were they to deny a bride’s request on the eve of her wedding day? What they don’t realize is that this is the cordial outing Jihye wanted to have for just the four of you months ago. It took everything in you not to roll your eyes when she suggested this arrangement back at the chapel, but you weren’t at liberty to reject her wishes any more than your parents were.

“Ah, I’m so glad we’re doing this now!” Jihye says buoyantly. She even bounces a little in her seat to show how physically overcome with joy she is. She beams back and forth between you, Hoseok, Minho, and back to you again.

“Absolutely,” Minho agrees at once since he is already the perfect husband.

“Yeah, this is… lovely,” you decide unenthusiastically. You swivel your eyes back to your menu when your sister shoots you a scolding look that says:  _Be nice._

“So, have you guys been here before?” Hoseok asks the betrothed couple conversationally, waving a hand through the air to show he is talking about the restaurant.

“We came here on our first date, actually,” Jihye answers in a chipper tone. She scrunches her nose at Minho in a cutesy way and proceeds to tell the table all about the memory.

In the spirit of neatly categorizing him back into place amongst your other lousy one-night stands and nothing more, you try not to grant Hoseok too much of your attention when you fall into the conversation. It proves to be quite difficult, however. Listening to and observing him in this casual, non-sexually-charged scenario is intriguing. It also brings to mind a thought that had not occurred to you before:  _Hoseok would make a wonderful boyfriend._

You had been so wrapped up in your mission of merely hooking up that night many months ago that you never stopped to think about whether or not the person you went home with could be more than a one-night-stand, or could even be dating material.

But Hoseok is.

He is witty but not arrogant. Funny but not obnoxious. Charming but not cheesy. Gorgeous but not conceited. His smile is distracting and compelling. His stories are interesting and comical. His laughter is merry and infectious.

 _No wonder he is best friends with fucking Minho. There has to be_ something _wrong with him…_

And then you remember there is, in fact, a catch: his bedroom manner.

That thought makes you snort out loud into your drink, and you sweep away the romantic notions clouding your mind.

Sometime between dinner and dessert, a local band begins to play music near the dance floor, and Minho whisks a giggling Jihye away from the table to partake in the dancing. As soon as they are gone, you contemplate making up an excuse to slip out, but Hoseok is already speaking to you.

“Good, we’re alone now,” he proclaims.

“Why is that a good thing?” The question spoken with a different tone could sound cute and flirty, but the flat disinterest in your mumbled words is moody and a bit harsh even to your own ears. It doesn’t appear to dampen Hoseok’s sunny demeanor, though.

He simply grins widely and says, “Because now we can talk to each other.”

You shrug your shoulders. “We’ve  _been_  talking.”

“Don’t play coy with me, pretty lady,” he chastises without any bite. “You know what I mean. We can talk about the night we met, and why we haven’t met up since.”

You groan and cross your arms over your chest as you lean back in your chair. “I’d really rather not.”

 _Is he an idiot or just a dude?_  If he truly has no idea what went wrong that night, it is not worth your time to explain it to him.  _But God damn him for being so handsome and likable otherwise…_

“Okay…” he says slowly. “If you don’t want to talk, then how about a dance?”

“What, here? Now? I don’t think so,” you dismiss without giving the idea any serious thought.

“Well, we can either sit here and talk, or we can dance and I won’t say a word. Your choice.”

The silent dance is definitely the lesser of two evils in your mind, but you are afraid of what other nostalgic feelings could be dredged up while in that intimate situation. Your only real option is to elude the decision he wants you to make.

“You can’t make me do either,” you announce.

Hoseok cocks an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge? I could just pick you up out of your chair and  _carry_  you to the dance floor, you know.”

You allow yourself a laugh at his joke. “I think every other gentleman in this place would collectively throw you out of here if you tried. Especially if I was kicking and screaming the whole time.”

Now  _he_  laughs as if that scenario would be genuinely amusing. “You wouldn’t dare cause a scene like that, now, would you?”

“ _You_  wouldn’t cause a scene like that, would you?” you throw back at him.

“I just might.”

“I dare you.”

The pair of you sit there smirking across the table at each other in a weird sort of stand-off, waiting for the other to make a move. He caves first by breaking the silence.

“Dance with me,” Hoseok implores in a soft, honeyed tone. The dimple returns to his cheek. His eyes twinkle brightly. He looks wholly unafraid of being rejected.

_God, he really is clueless, isn’t he?_

“No, thank you,” you answer shortly, stubbornness getting the better of you.

"Would you dance with me if I were the last man on Earth?”

His follow-up question comes as a surprise. He must be determined to get  _some_  sort of positive answer from you tonight.

The best you can do is laugh away the silly question and wish him a good night. When you get up to leave, Hoseok offers to at least walk you to your car, and after a moment of hesitation, you deem the gesture acceptable.

You both say hasty goodbyes to Jihye and Minho on your way out. Jihye pouts a little at your abrupt departure, but she doesn’t complain, and you know it is because she is pleased to see you walking out with Hoseok. All looks to be going according to plan in her brilliant match-making mind.

When you and Hoseok reach your car in the parking lot, you turn to tell him goodbye once again.

“You were really awful in bed,” you find yourself blurting, apparently unable to keep the words bottled a second longer. A blush bleeds across your cheeks, but you hope Hoseok cannot see it in the dim light of the parking lot. Or if he does, you hope he takes it for anger rather than embarrassment. After all,  _he_  is the one who should feel ashamed, not you.

He does have the decency to flinch at your blunt assessment. The wrinkle of his face is noticeable before he turns his head away and takes a step back from you. You wait for him to retort, but he stays silent.

 _Unbelievable_ , you scoff to yourself.  _He’s not even going to defend himself._

Just as you turn to leave, his fingers close around your wrist. True to the nature of electricity, a spark jolts through you nearly instantaneously. His hold is delicate but it feels as though you are being branded; you will be surprised if there are not burns in the shape of his fingers left on your skin when he lets go. You whip your head around to regard him curiously.

“Wait.  _Please_ ,” Hoseok pleads, emphasizing the pleasantry as if it means all the difference. His eyes are in a state you have not seen them before: anxious.

He takes a deep breath. It goes in shaky and comes out resigned.

“I know I was terrible. I could make excuses about being drunk and about you being so damn beautiful that I couldn’t help myself from cumming so quickly. Both of which are true, for the record, but they’re shitty excuses and you deserve better because from what I can tell, you are an amazing woman. All I can say is that I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. And I know you don’t owe me anything, but I would love to have a chance for us to start over.”

At the end of his little monologue, he reaches up and traces your cheek with his thumb ever so gently. It is a soft gesture and over in a flash, but a warm tingle still ripples through your body in the wake of its trail.

You can still feel it on the drive home… in the shower… when you climb into bed.

You can still see his smile reflected in your windshield… against the tiles in your bathroom… in the blackness of your room.

You can still hear his laughter in the silence of the car ride… over the drumming of the water in the tub… above the nightly serenade of crickets outside your apartment.

And suddenly you can’t understand why it matters to you so much that he was terrible in bed that one single time.

 

* * *

 

The ceremony went off without a hitch. Well, excluding the hitching of the bride and groom, of course.

The decorated chapel - stuffed with flowers, wreaths, streamers, candles, bows, as well as people donned in silk, lace, velvet, perfume, diamonds, and pearls - was a vision worthy of any bridal magazine showcasing the “ideal” wedding. Outside the floor-length glass windows, the sky was dyed like cotton candy from the fading sunlight. A violinist stood to one side and played light, dreamy tones before and during the processional, then the classic  _Wedding March_  for the bride’s entrance.

Jihye played the part of the radiant, blushing bride beautifully. Seeing your little sister’s eyes shrink-wrapped in tears as she walked down the aisle on your father’s arm, then hearing the quake in her normally steady and bossy voice as she naively vowed her complete devotion to another person (all while wearing a couple-thousand-dollar dress meant for this one single occasion) was almost enough to make  _you_ cry, too.

Several times during the vows, you couldn’t stop yourself from looking across from you just to see the wonderfully fond smile on Hoseok’s face. It had been there since he met you at the other end of the aisle and presented you with a beautiful white orchid corsage to match the boutonniere pinned to his lapel. When he slipped it onto your wrist, the touch of his slender fingers tried again to rekindle the fire the two of you had had; the one that burned much too hot and fast.

 _“You look beautiful,”_  Hoseok had whispered in your ear. Then he quickly amended,  _“You_ **are** _beautiful.”_

The same could have been said of him in his dapper black tuxedo and bow tie, but you could not locate your voice to tell him as much.

The nervous flutter of your heart was made visibly apparent in the way your fingers trembled when he lifted them to kiss the back of your hand, but Hoseok couldn’t take notice because his gaze was fixed on your rosy face. And yours was fixed on his in return. The pools of his eyes were so easy to drown in.

In that moment, immersed in the whimsical atmosphere all around you, you were prepared to give him the answer you couldn’t give him last night when he proposed to start things over between the two of you. You were ready to tell him you had been foolish for not giving him a second thought all these months, and you would appreciate a do-over very much.

But then Jihye was hissing from somewhere off to the side for Hoseok to get moving, and you lost the chance to speak your wishes. Something about the small bounce in Hoseok’s gait as he left you behind told you he already knew what you had wanted to say, however.

Now, here at the reception, it is time to forget about such sappy things and get drunk.

If only the waiter with the tray of champagne would circle back around so you don’t have to go chasing after him and start up some “alcoholic spinster” rumors for your family to enjoy at your expense.

“Hi there.”

Hoseok appears at your side like a miracle, bearing a cocky grin and two flutes of the same champagne you were just ogling.

“You looked like you needed a drink,” he continues, letting you lift one from between his fingers.

Your lips are already around the edge of the glass. “Is it that obvious?”

“A little. But hey, who cares? It’s a party.” He pauses for a sip of his own drink, then says, “I liked your speech, by the way. Your Maid of Honor speech. The story about your little car surfing adventure was hilarious.”

“Oh, thank you,” you giggle back. “I’m afraid my parents didn’t find it quite as funny.”

“Well, no, but they wouldn’t, would they?” Hoseok laughs. “But they  _did_  like the part when you said that Jihye getting married is far braver than all your teenaged stunts combined.”

You hum in agreement. “Hm. Yeah. Luckily, they don’t know seem to know the difference between  _bravery_  and  _stupidity_.”

Hoseok’s grin tilts lopsidedly at your comment. “Not a big, uh,  _proponent_ of the whole marriage thing, I take it?”

“Nah,” you dismiss at once. “There are billions and  _billions_  of people in this world, and folks want to tie themselves to just one with a sheet of paper recognized by the government? To some person they met in a teeny tiny corner of the world without ever having stepped outside of the thirty mile radius in which they’ve lived for their entire life?” The bubbly alcohol in your glass sloshes haphazardly as your hands become animated, but you pay it no mind. “And so many marriages just end in divorce anyway, so then people have to go through  _that_  whole fuckery. Lose half their money, half their shit. And the things they do get to keep, they have to look at and get a big fat reminder of how they picked it out with their ex-spouse during a time when they thought they were in love. They probably went to the store that day hand-in-hand and had no idea things were going to totally implode -”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Hoseok interrupts with a chuckle. “How drunk  _are_  you right now? Maybe I should take that back…”

“I’m not drunk!” you say hotly and a bit too loudly, jerking your glass away from his reaching hand. A few nearby heads turn in your direction in alarm, so you lower your voice and grit, “I’m  _not_ drunk.”

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” The expression on his face does not look particularly sorry. “Can I ask you something else without you going off on a rant?”

You deflate with a heavy sigh of exasperation. “What is it?”

“Will you dance with me?”

You force the corners of your mouth down a bit to prevent your smile from growing too wide at the sparkle of amusement in his eyes.

“Sure,” you breathe. This time you let him take your drink to set it aside with his, and you take his hand when he extends it towards you.

If people are watching the two of you when you step onto the dance floor together, you are oblivious. The only thing you can focus on is the warmth of Hoseok’s other hand radiating through your dress from its place on the small of your back when he pulls you in close, and the solid plane of his chest heating you from the front. You absently wonder if he can feel your heart racing.

"I haven’t looked around in a minute,” Hoseok muses quietly when you both settle into the soft rhythm of the music and begin gently rotating. “But am I suddenly the last man on Earth?”

An ungraceful bark of laughter pops out of your mouth. Too late, you cover your lips with your fingers, but Hoseok does not accept the movement of your hand. He reaches and brings it back to his shoulder, then he gives it a few pats as if to embed it firmly into place.

“You’re not the last man on Earth,” you admit without looking at him.

“So you  _want_  to dance with me?” he presses, playfully ducking his face into your view to force your eyes on him.

You exhale a softer laugh. “I do.”

“Funny. Your sister said those exact same words a little while ago.”

“So did your best friend.”

Hoseok curls his lips down and protrudes his chin thoughtfully. “I guess that makes them  _both_  stupid.”

“Or brave,” you argue matter-of-factly.

“Or brave,” he echoes.

A few silent twirls go by before he speaks up again.

“I have another question,” he begins slowly, then goes quiet for long enough that you eventually look up at him questioningly. The resident smile is gone from his face because his lips are pressed together ponderously.

“What’s your question, Hoseok?” you prompt gently.

He parts his tight lips nervously and utters, “If I were to kiss you right now, would you consider it brave or stupid of me?”

If he could not adequately feel your heartbeat a moment ago, he certainly should be able to now.

You take a moment to consider your words. “Neither,” you finally decide. “I’d consider it cliché.”

“Ah. Well, what do you think about cliché, then?”

You swallow hard. “I think I can handle it.”

To put that statement to the test, Hoseok suddenly dips you backwards, and you squeak in surprise. He keeps his eyes locked on yours while waiting to see if you will protest. After a long enough moment of receiving no resistance, he leans in after you and matches his grinning lips to yours.

Several whistles and cat calls ring out all around you. The supportive sounds encourage Hoseok to lift you back upright and continue the kiss ardently, which you reciprocate in full. Instead of simply enjoying it, your brain chooses to analyze the kiss and how much it differs from the last time you did this with him - in a good way. Either he has been practicing or alcohol  _completely_  abolishes all sense of his coordination.

With that thought, you start to laugh until you are unable to maintain contact with him. Hoseok celebrates your laughter (and the blush he has painted on your face) by beaming and squeezing you tightly.

The audience of people crowded around begins to applaud at the endearing display. Even the bride and groom - the people who  _should_  be the sole center of attention all night - are standing on the sidelines clapping their approval. It’s as if none of them have ever witnessed two people kissing before.

Then you see the unmistakably hopeful look on your parents’ faces, and it dawns on you that they are excited by the prospect of you entering an actual relationship with someone. You know how their minds work. No doubt they are already going so far as marrying you off to Hoseok despite the fact that he is essentially a stranger to them - and to you.

Those bothersome thoughts threaten to spoil your cheerful mood, but Hoseok reels you back in by advancing and pecking your mouth chastely. It feels like a punctuation to the unspoken agreement to a new start.

You gift him with a flattered smile and allow him to lead you back into another dance, and everyone else resumes their own business.

The fast pace of the next song immediately reminds you of the infamous night that has been on your mind ever since Hoseok reappeared in your life yesterday. The way his eyes are following the motion of your hips tells you that he is remembering, too. With just a few well-timed shakes and some not-so-accidental brushes, things quickly alter from sweet and charming to hot and heavy.

Hoseok brings his lips to the edge of your cheek and murmurs towards your earlobe, "You’re giving me dangerous thoughts right now, gorgeous.”

Boldly, you entreat, “Tell me.”

He sucks in a breath through his teeth. “I’m thinking about asking if you want to get out of here, but I don’t think I should.”

The scent of his soap tinged with just a hint of sweat is positively intoxicating. The tips of his fingers grazing along your hips makes you woozy in the best possible way.

"Why not?” you purr curiously.

“Well, you see, the last time I left somewhere with you like that, I screwed up and didn’t see you for six months,” he tells you. The smile on his face is a bit forlorn. “I don’t want to make the mistake of sleeping with you too soon again. I want this new start to be perfect.”

His words are wise. You put your hormones on pause for a moment and envision yourself going on sweet dates with him in all the usual places - to the beach, to an amusement park, to his favorite café - before one night the two of you finally make love to each other in a perfectly romantic setting.

As darling as all that would be, you have no patience for it now. There will be plenty of time for those fanciful scenarios later. Or at least, that’s what you are planning on.

“The problem wasn’t us sleeping together too soon,” you explain. “The problem was that you were bad.” You pinch his earlobe to let him know you mean what you say, but in a playful manner.

Hoseok snorts and shakes his head away from your fingers. He seems unwilling to say more on the matter, so you have to continue yourself to make your desires known.

“Hoseok, I’ve been waiting for months to get laid at this reception, and you’re the only one here I’m interested in following through with now,” you level seriously. “Besides, if we’re starting over, I need to know that the first time was a fluke.”

“It  _was_  a fluke,” he insists hurriedly.

You press your lips to the shell of his ear. “So prove it,” you whisper salaciously.

When you pull back, there is still a somewhat hesitant expression on Hoseok’s face, but the desire in his eyes is growing; the brown that used to be there is being swallowed by black lust. His gentlemanly resolve is crumbling.

“Can the Best Man and the Maid of Honor even leave the reception?” he worries aloud, still clinging to his better judgement.

Good question. Honestly, you have no idea what the standard protocol is for the wedding party’s attendance after the ceremony is finished and the obligatory speeches have been made at the reception.

You contemplate just going to Jihye and telling her outright that you and Hoseok are leaving. Certainly she has no further need for you to be here. But then again, there is probably  _something_  more you are supposed to be doing for her. Helping with the gifts or cleaning up the mess afterwards, perhaps. But isn’t that what the waiters are for? Or didn’t she hire a crew for that? You can’t remember. In any case, you can hear her incredulous tone now, scolding you for wanting to duck out early on her big night just to hook up with Hoseok - even though she  _wants_  you and him to become a thing.

You gaze around and spot your sister sitting beside her new husband at their specially reserved table, feeding him a bite from her fork and laughing gaily. She seems distracted enough for the moment.

“We don’t have to leave. We just have to be quick,” you decide, taking Hoseok’s hand and tugging determinedly. “Come on.”

You half expect him to remain rooted in place and hiss another anxious remark at you, but he comes along willingly. The things you assume of him never go as expected; you should probably stop assuming things altogether.

Without stopping to survey the curious looks that you know are being shot in your direction - because it is clear that you are moving with a purpose and Hoseok is along for the ride - you lead Hoseok straight to a side room containing the gifts you were just wondering about and shut the door behind you. Not a second is spared before you grab the flaps of Hoseok’s tuxedo jacket to pull him in for a more heated kiss.

“This is crazy,” he laughs lightly after you release his lips again with a wet suction noise.

It  _is_  crazy, but it is also too thrilling to stop.

“Well, it wouldn’t be my sister’s wedding reception if I didn’t try to cause  _some_  sort of scandal,” you joke off-handedly.

“You mean your speech wasn’t inappropriate enou- hnghh.” Hoseok’s laughter dries up when he witnesses you slide your panties off from beneath your dress. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he gulps.

With a smirk, you quip, “Do you want to fuck me or not?”

Before he can answer you, your fingers are already working at unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. Your hand slides past the band of his underwear to find him not very hard, but not completely flaccid either. His breath hitches at your touch.

“Jesus, woman,” Hoseok hisses. “You’re really not messing around, are you?”

You grin wickedly. “I’m just eager to be fucked the way I should have been months ago. You better not disappoint me.”

You give his cock a squeeze to both warn and encourage him; the moan you steal in the process is a bonus. You rub him up and down as best you can from the angle permitted by the confines of his clothing. His cock stiffens rapidly and a lustful sigh overflows from his mouth.

With a few quick shifts and yanks, you guide his erection out of his pants and boxers without removing either and drop to your knees in front of it. It looks hot to the touch with the head a delicious shade of red. The vein curving around the smooth underside looks fit to burst. And you can’t remember it being quite this big, either.

Hoseok gasps at the first kittenish lick you draw on the slit of his dick. One of his hands comes down to hold the side of your face. You peer up at him through your lashes and smile as you press the tip of his cock against the tip of your tongue. He groans lowly in his chest at the sight.

“We don’t have much time,” he tells you as though you don’t already know. His voice is getting husky. “So we’d better make the most of it.”

Unexpectedly, he curls his hands around your arms and pulls you back up to your feet. The action utterly confuses you. No man you have ever been with has ever stopped a blowjob before it has even started, and there is no way he could have misread your intentions. Is he afraid of cumming too soon again? That’s certainly a likely possibility…

Before you can question him, Hoseok grabs the back of your head and brings you in so he can slant his mouth over yours. The force with which he crashes into you is enough to bruise your delicate lips, but oddly enough, you don’t mind. The sincere passion he is pouring into the kiss is burning you from the inside out. He moves to assault your neck next, freeing you to speak.

“Hoseok, what-” You clear the rasp in your voice and start again. “Why did you stop me? I wanted to -”

He interrupts you with a moan that rattles against your collarbone. “I know, gorgeous. As much as I would love to have your lips around my dick, the point of all this is to make  _you_  feel good. We can worry about me later.”

He breaks away from your skin to glance around the room. There isn’t exactly a four-poster bed in the vicinity, so he decides the best option is to sit you down in a plain wooden chair. It is either that or the gift table, but that feels like it would be  _too_  disrespectful to Jihye and Minho.

Hoseok kneels in front of you and removes your heels carefully as you take a seat. His thumbs rub gentle circles into your smooth skin as he shuffles closer to you on his knees and leans in to peck your lips twice. His touch is sweet and relaxing, letting you know without words that he is going to take good care of you. The anticipation is nearly overwhelming.

His position reminds you of that of a groom about to retrieve the garter wrapped around his bride’s thigh. Perhaps Minho is doing just that with Jihye right now. Is  _that_  something the wedding party should be present for? Who the fuck cares? Why are you even thinking about that right now? You only need to be concerned with the people in this room right here, right now.

Soon, Hoseok’s fingers trail upwards, following the muscled lines of your calves under the skirt of your dress. You swiftly drag the expensive fabric up over your thighs to give him unfettered access. He grins at you then looks down at the view you have so generously granted him. His hands creep higher and higher on your legs until he is tantalizingly close to where you need him most.

“Hoseok, we can’t take too long,” you remind him impatiently. The whine in your tone is apparent, but you don’t care.

“I know, sweetheart,” he soothes. One of his index fingers skims just over the lips of your pussy. “Indulge me for just a minute, please.”

He distracts you with another kiss, and you meet his probing tongue with a whimper of need. Since using words isn’t an option at the moment, you try to convey in other ways how much you need him right now. You pull on his arms and at his hair. Your feet glide along his legs and he opens them wider. When your toes bump against his cock still standing out from his pants, Hoseok groans loudly against your mouth, and you can tell it is not out of pain. He  _likes_  it. Emboldened by his reaction, you press the ball of your foot directly against his shaft with a bit more pressure.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he pants against your chin. “Damn vixen. I bet you’re good with your feet.”

Honestly, you have never tried serious foot play, but he sounds turned on enough to make you want to try.

“Maybe you’ll find out,” you tease with a giggle. “Right now I want you to prove to me that you’re good with your fingers.”

“You got it, gorgeous.”

He finally dips a long finger between your folds and curls it, beckoning a gasp into your lungs. Your hips automatically jerk forward to seek more friction. Hoseok obliges your body language and buries a second finger deep inside your walls alongside the first.

“ _Shit_ , sweetheart. Your pussy is even tighter than I remember.”

You hum in amusement. "Have you thought about my pussy a lot these past six months, then?”

“Absolutely,” he admits freely, and you have no reply for his honesty because you were not expecting it.

He draws his fingers out to just the tips then plunges them back inside without delay. He repeats the motion again and again, gradually increasing the pace. The sounds coming from your core are sticky and obscene. Your eyes roll back in your head, and your head falls back as well.

“Fuck, just like that,” you urge breathlessly. “Touch my clit, too, please. I need more.”

Hoseok lets out a hungry moan. Instead of using his thumb like you figured he would, he bends forward to brush his tongue against your swollen bud. Your thighs twitch reflexively at the sudden contact on your most sensitive area, ready to either snap against his head to stop him or fall away even further to invite him in. They decide on the latter.

A whimper squeezes out of you, along with a string of barely coherent encouragements.

“Oh God, H-Hoseok. Yes, yes, y- _yes_! Like that. Don’t stop. Muh-move your fingers a little s-slower. Tongue faster. Please. Oh f- _fuck_ , yes!”

He redistributes his weight to get comfortable between your legs, then hastens to follow your commands. His tongue sharpens and digs relentlessly into your clit. The points of his fingers graze against your g-spot with each deliberate stroke, and that’s when you twist your own fingers in his hair.

“God d- _damn_  it, Hoseok,” you moan. Your body starts to writhe uncontrollably, trying to ride his face to your finish.

“Yes, sweetheart,” he coos sweetly. The vibrations of his voice tickle your clit gloriously, and you can feel his grin against your hot skin. “You taste like fucking heaven. Does it feel good? Am I making you feel good?”

You tap the heel of your foot against his back in a weak attempt at kicking him. “Just sh-shut up and keep going. Oh,  _fuck_ , k-keep going!”

He chuckles and continues with renewed vigor.

Every time his fingers drag backwards from your pussy, you pull them right back in with a tight squeeze. His lips wrap around your clit and his tongue slips under the hood. The ministrations on your raw bundle of nerves drive you straight to the edge of madness.

Your fingers curl against Hoseok’s warm scalp. Your toes curl against the cold tile floor. Your back stiffens to keep your center firmly locked against Hoseok’s face. Your breath hangs suspended in your chest for a long moment…

…then suddenly you are exhaling it with an expletive cry of satisfaction when you tumble over that blissful edge. Spasms wrack through your body repeatedly as it struggles to harbor the intense pleasure crashing over you.

Somewhere in your electrified mind, you are aware of Hoseok’s other hand on one of your hips, trying to pin you back down to the chair. You let go of him and move back quickly when you realize you must be suffocating him, and his fingers slip from you in the process with one last squelch. When you look down at him, you can clearly see the glisten of your juices slathered over his nose and chin and mouth.

His  _grinning_  mouth.

“I think you enjoyed that, sweetheart,” he comments proudly. “Considering I just about  _drowned_ just now.”

You huff out a laugh and shake your fuzzy head. “Fucking hell, Hoseok. Why the fuck couldn’t you have been that good the  _first_  time?”

“I wish I could have been. Then I would’ve been doing this with you this whole time.”

"Oh, you think so? You think we would’ve stayed together up to now?” You grin at him and shove your foot against his shoulder playfully.

He doesn’t answer you right away. First, he takes your foot and brings it up to his sticky lips to kiss the pads of your toes gently, one by one. Your smile falls from your face when your lips drop open at the erotic sight, but his only widens.

“Yeah, that’s what I think, pretty lady.”

His presumptuous yet sweet admission leaves you speechless. All you can do is tug him towards you to kiss him with newfound admiration, heedless of the mess still glued to his lips. Truthfully, you relish the taste of yourself on him; you think of it as proof of the capabilities you thought he lacked, and you have never been happier to stand corrected.

Hoseok is the one to break away first. He smiles at you softly and asks, "Can I get one more dance before I take you out of here to make you cum some more? Preferably on my dick this time?”

The bizarre combination of endearing and lewd words makes you laugh heartily. What a surprising man he has turned out to be.

“Absolutely.”

 

* * *

 

Copyright © 2018-2019 ditzymax. All rights reserved.


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